


Hana Ni Nare

by vanillafireworks



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: 2014 Winter Olympics, F/M, Ice Skating, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 04:55:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2609309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillafireworks/pseuds/vanillafireworks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Based off my favorite exhibition of Yuzu's, his skate to Hana Ni Nare) Nanami Abe's only daughter has never liked to skate-- still, something about the mushroom-haired boy playing tag with his sister on the ice makes her want to pick her own boots up. Ultimately, chasing after him proves to be a little more than a children's game.</p>
<p>03-06-2017 EDIT: Oh my GOD literally I wrote this having just gotten into skating. Please don't believe any of the depictions of how the sport is or how skaters go about the sport... LMAO</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hana Ni Nare

 

_Can you smile now?_

_How do you breathe?_

_While pretending to be strong in front of people_

_You must be walking, as though there were no problem._

Your mother loves telling the story of your first time skating, down to the smallest detail. Winter was nearing its end, and despite the fact that she was Nanami Abe- a woman famous for rearing world class skaters- she couldn’t get her own daughter onto the frozen lake near their home. _It’s cold outside,_ you always insisted, and so that day, as a last resort, she took you to a short skating session, where she was to be overseeing new trainees.

You came along with apprehension, wrapped in your pink fur coat and purple boots. Aside from you and Nanami, the lake was deserted, save for a family- a small boy and girl about your age and a couple- who your mother began talking to. Without anything to do, you wandered around the edges of the lake, trying to bite away the cold shiver running up your bottom lip:

_Tag!_ A boy’s voice cried, and you caught the two children rushing about as fast as they could with their skates on, giggling madly. _I’ll get you this time, Yuzu!_ And you saw the boy only laugh and glide away, shooting his sister a taunting glance because on the ice, he was fast, and untouchable—even at your age you could tell! from his flushing cheeks and hair flapping in the breeze—

You rushed home then, grabbed the skates you had never worn before. By then, the boy and his family were gone. You stood, fingers numb, teeth chattering from both the cold and an inability to explain why you wanted to plunge into the winter.

(It was a sensation you would grow accustomed to. Even if Yuzuru and his sister had long gone, you stepped gingerly onto the lake, the cries of _Tag!_ still echoing in your head—when your knee buckled and your leg slammed into the ice, it was only the first scar he would ever give you.)

 

_Even those flowers beneath your feet_

_don’t hesitate to live._

Off ice Yuzuru was never charismatic, and neither was he a particularly reliable best friend. He had promised you he would come over to the rink and help you work on your skating speeds, but the sun was beginning to set, and he was nowhere to be seen.

He finally arrived half an hour later, sweat dripping from his hair and that smile that always infuriated you, the one which made all his features light up, the one he reserved for when he had stood you up.

“So what’s your excuse this time?” You hoped you sounded angry enough.

A shrug, a little grin somewhere in the folds of his eyes. “Coach had me stay behind to work on my jumps.”

You huffed then, and almost said _you’re not the only one who’s training, but guess who’s late?_ But right then he gripped both your wrists. His fingers were always cold.

“Hey, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you found yourself mumbling. You couldn’t look anywhere else but at your boots.

“Wh- what was it you wanted to show me anyway?”

His tone was growing more and more cheerful, and finally you couldn’t help but allow a smile to cross your face. It was always easier than pretending you were mad, anyway, and you could never _really_ be angry at Yuzuru Hanyu, especially when he was showing you exactly how to bend your knees after a landing.

                               

(You loved him most in those moments. Even as Sendai’s golden junior skaters, neither of you had done well at the Japanese Championships— tenth and eighth place for you and Yuzu, respectively— but here he was, telling you that it was _okay, we’re both going to make it to the JGP Final this year!_ )

_Keep on living_

_Now, in the wind_

_We look up at our own skies._

July 15, 2010. Your entire body felt stone cold. Was it the chill of the enormous skating rink surrounding you, or the absence of a medal around your neck?

It had always been your practice to find each other’s gazes in the middle of awarding, to give each other smiles, however congratulatory or consoling they might be. But today, Yuzu was lost in the flash of network cable cameras, and you could only hear his stuttering as he struggled to answer the press. A flash of pity crossed your chest as you watched him. He had never liked scenarios like this, and anyway, how was he supposed to tell them what the _secret to his success_ was? What words could he use to explain the long hours at the rink, the endless packs of band aids you ripped open for each other at two in the morning?

In the congratulatory party your mother threw- for Yuzu, even though she insisted that _both of you_ had done well- you realized it wasn’t really the _not winning_ that bothered you.

Yuzu had become a _him_ now, an unreachable pronoun in the middle of the room accepting endless greetings of congratulations. There was no _we_ or _them_ , only Yuzuru and the _her_ lurking silently in the corner of the room.

_It’s okay to bump into each other_

_It’s okay to cry_

_Because somewhere out there, is an answer._

 

By your next competition, you’d resolved to train harder than ever, which earned you a gold medal in the singles. As you stood on your podium and received your medal, Yuzuru sent you a smile. You thought his eyes glistened even brighter than the award hanging around your neck.

That was that for you, but Yuzu was ecstatic. “We have to be in the next Olympics,” he told you at the rink one day. “It’ll be easy! We just need to do well at the Nationals, and then the committee’s definitely going to consider us.”

Even as children training for your Novice level contests, it was something the two of you had always talked about. Staying in the Olympic village. Skating on the best rinks in the world. Accepting a medal in front of an adoring crowd.

You had just taken your braces off that day, and you were feeling strangely reckless.

“Definitely,” you said, and Yuzu grinned widely.

On that day, as you, Yuzu, and the rest of  your mother’s trainees went out to buy ice cream, you made a promise to yourself. You would never stand on that podium without him.

Of course, somewhere, lurking in the darkest crevices of your chest,  another version of that declaration whispered in your veins-

he would never stand on that podium without you.

_Don’t give up_

_No matter how painful the future will be_

_Your life will shine brightly_

You’d promised Yuzu you would put in some extra effort on your own, and so in the summer of 2011, you talked your mother into hiring a dance coach for you. Nanami looked pretty skeptical, but she got you that plus an assistant coach anyway, free of charge.

The day of your first meeting with Daisuke, he asked you to perform the routine you were preparing for the Japanese nationals.

You landed your combinations perfectly, and ended with a doughnut spin transitioning into a Biellmann. Yet when you struck your final pose, he was frowning.

“Well, it seems like you practice quite a bit.” You nodded quickly. Yuzu always insisted on late night practice sessions, and even then he would still rush to your house at three in the morning, yelling for you to strap your skates on.

“But you don’t like it, do you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said, you don’t like it.”

“Don’t like what?”

“Skating,” he replied, raising an eyebrow as he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “You’re not going to get in, young lady. Sochi only has room for one kind of skater.”

_One flower stands in the wind_

_We can become flowers, too._

You had no idea how to break the news to Yuzu. Daisuke was a renowned trainer after all, and everybody knew he was _never_ wrong—but still, the disappointment clawed at your chest, a searing shiver in your heart colder than any rink. Yuzu was a _him_ all over again, a _him_ that you knew now was going to the Olympics without you.

Looking at your records, you knew it was entirely possible. Both you and Yuzu had won two national titles, and since that fateful day in 2010, you had made sure that your skating career was nothing but a string of gold medals and the occasional, fateful silver.

That jolted you to keep training. You decided to ignore Daisuke’s words, and after your first meeting, you never mentioned it again.

 

_Have you realized?_

_That you have power in your hands_

_Courage will become light_

_It’s alright  even if you’re not ready_

Like you knew Yuzu was doing, you spent hours overtime with Daisuke, Ayame, and your mother, working on your spins and falling as many times as you could—for you and Yuzu, it had always been good luck to slam into the ice before competitions.

By your next competition, your Kiss of the Vampire program  was practically ingrained into your bones- you left the rink in Bulgaria with a season’s best score, despite the entire thing feeling like just another rehearsal.

The gravity of the entire affair only dawned on you when Yuzuru stepped onto the rink, and you saw his gaze tremble and sweat pour down neck. His hair was slicked back, and you couldn’t help but notice that he looked almost _small_ in the mocha brown ensemble his mother had sown for him.

Nevertheless, he looked beautiful. He always was.

Romeo and Juliet was your favourite piece of his to perform—Yuzu had always been a little too wild for the classical pieces you performed, and this routine’s choreography contained his energy into a beautifully orchestrated embrace. You watched him with fascination. No matter how many times you saw him skate, each instance was a different experience, a new star in the constellation that was Yuzuru.

Maybe it was why, right in the middle of his routine, he bent a little too far back. Perhaps he wanted a glimpse of the stars he was soaring amongst after jumping into that perfect, perfect axel. Either way, you knew the jump was wrong the moment he took off- but still, when he fell smack on his back, you found yourself biting back tears.

You don’t remember what you had gotten that day—gold? it was always gold, anyway—but you can only recall the dark look in his eyes at the end of the day, even as he flashed that well-practiced smile that still made your heart pound.

He got a bronze medal that day.

_You can still fight_

_The seed that you hold in your chest_

_will someday bloom dreams, for sure._

 

You ended up on Yuzu’s roof the night of your mother’s customary congratulatory party, scanning Sendai’s night sky for a comet that Yuzu had heard would show up that evening. It was just the two of you, and for several moments, you could hear nothing but the sound of your heart thudding around inside your chest.

“I don’t know how you do it.” Yuzuru’s voice was as dark as the cityscape surrounding you.

“Do what?”

“Skate like it’s just a rehearsal.” His tone was bitter as he replied. “It’s- it’s never just a rehearsal for me.”

You were silent- how to explain what you didn’t know? You were only sure that in this moment, you wanted to hug him. The chilly breeze was surrounding you with a kind of reckless aura, after all, and the night only seemed to make Yuzu shine brighter— there was still something beautiful about the melancholy in his eyes.

When you finally turned to wrap your arms around him, resting your head against his shoulder, Yuzuru said nothing. He only paused before resting his arm around your back, and within moments, you were entangled in his arms.

 (The shooting star never came that night. But neither of you noticed—he would admit later that he had read the date wrong, and that really, the comet had shown itself on the night before that fateful skating competition.)

 

_Don’t lose_

_Now, in time,_

_Everyone looks for the future_

_It’s all right to be wounded_

_It’s all right to make mistakes_

_Stand up no matter how many times you fall_

Your off-ice dance trainer Ayame loved you, and you reciprocated— you loved the dance routines she taught you, worshipped the rush of the beat making its way from the speakers to the floor to your feet to your pounding chest. On your first two weeks, she taught you ballet pieces to help with your skating, but by your third week together, she gave up and showed you some of the jazz choreography she was working on.

You caught on fast. Soon, you found yourself dreading the moments you spent with your feet suffocating inside your skates (it was better to have them strapped on as tightly as possible, Yuzu told you). One day, as you played around with a contemporary routine Aya wanted help choreographing with, you heard a knock on your door. It was your mother, telling you that you were almost late for training with Daisuke.

(Neither you nor your mother saw the glint in your eyes fade, but Aya did, and the next day, she told you about a small university dance contest she and her friends were hosting. You had a lot of potential, she insisted, it would be great to try it out and get feedback— and as she spoke, something in your chest began to thud. Her smile was all too knowing.)

 

 

_Just one thing_

_Reach out your hand to the future_

_Like the flower that blooms upright_

_Everyone can be strong_

_So can you_

Your mothers loved to meet up, and so dinners at your house or Yuzu’s was often. On one such day, you and Yuzu were seated on the couch watching television when he spoke up.

“Hey, what was that medal in your room for?”

“Which medal?” You were a little exasperated by the question—you had both been skating all your life, and Yuzu knew your room was stacked with the medals you’d amassed with him over the years.

“The one on your dresser, the silver one. It didn’t look like a skating competition.” You stiffened. He was right, the medal he was talking about wasn’t for a skating competition, and you wondered if he had put two and two together with the outline of a girl in harem pants, striking a pose, engraved on the silver surface.

You sighed. “Just a dance contest on the other side of Miyagi.”

Yuzu made a little sound of surprise, then inched closer to you, his eyes widening. “A _dance contest_? And you placed second? Wow, that’s great!”

“Yeah, Aya’s bringing me to-“ Yuzu tilted his head all of a sudden, as if he’d just realized something.

“Hey, don’t forget!  Thedemos next week,  since deliberations for the Olympic team’s coming up. We’re both going to be in the team, right?” His eyes were alight all over again, and _oh God that smile—_ his words echoed in your head all over again, and your own, _he was never going to stand on that podium, not without you—_

When Yuzu and his mother left that night, you gave Aya a call. You thanked her for the opportunity, the contest had been great, but you were focused on your skating career, you told her. Nothing else.

 

_Even if we stop at each day, without an answer_

_Those tears are a sign of a beginning_

_Look, the sun and the gentle wind_

_are gazing at us._

 

Even though she was Nanami Abe- a woman famous for rearing world-class skaters- she was less disappointed by her star student switching trainers than her daughter was. Yuzuru finally told you two months before he was scheduled to leave, as he stuck a band-aid on your arm after he’d scratched it on the ice.

“You’ll have to learn how to stick them on yourself soon,” was how he segued into the topic, and with each word, you found the chill on the rink find its way into your chest. It was no one’s fault, he told you. He’d read about Brian Orser in a magazine, learned about how his Cricket Club in Canada had all kinds of great coaches that would make him as eligible as possible for Sochi. “I talked it over with your mom, and she completely agrees with me,” he added. As if your mother being okay with it meant that _you_ would be okay with it, which you _weren’t_ , holy hell you _weren’t_ -

_What happened about going to the Olympics together_ , you managed to choke out. Your head was beginning to spin, and your hearing was growing muffled, like you were listening to everything from behind a curtain. You weren’t angry- only dejected beyond belief, and it only made you sadder to realize that even now, you weren’t mad at him, you could _never_ be mad at the boy sitting beside you.

Something in his irises darkened for a brief moment, but soon he was grabbing your wrist the way he always did. _Hey, of course we’re going together! Look, you’ve got Daisuke, and now I’ve got Orser, it’s going to be great._

At those words, you felt your head clear all of a sudden. “It’s not going to be great,” you snapped, “you’re leaving me, Yuzu.”

Everything was a cruel joke now- you’d spent your entire life sewing together a bejewelled outfit you would never skate in. “Yuzu- Yuzu, look at this from my point of view.”

“I am-“

“No. When it comes to the rink, you’re all I have, Yuzu.”

You knew you had said the wrong thing the moment the words slipped out of your mouth, into the icy air- a wrong landing. Its weight was in all the wrong places.

Yuzu spat his words out as he grabbed his gym bag. “That’s only because that was all you cared to give yourself.”

You’d thought you had known what real cold was. But you didn’t, not until you saw the look in his eyes before he left the room.

_Keep on living_

_Now, in the wind_

_We look up at our own skies_

If Aya noticed your bloodshot eyes when you walked into the dance studio two days later, the only giveaway was the warm up music she turned on the moment you positioned yourself in front of the mirror.

“Come on, let’s see that toe loop.” She sounded just as exhausted as you were, and you momentarily felt a tinge of guilt—had your refusal to join the semi-finals been some form of betrayal?

Even off-ice, you tripped on your first attempt at a jump, and when you found yourself too weak to get up, Aya approached you with a wry smile. “Feeling d0wn?” _Literally_ , you wanted to reply.

“I- I got into an argument with Yuzu,” Aya raised an eyebrow—did it surprise her, too, that you could ever be capable of being angry at him?—and you continued. “He’s going to Canada to train.”

“For Sochi?”

“Right.”

A pause, and Aya tossed you a light smile. “This means we have to amp up your training, right? Can’t have your best friend leaving you behind.”

She was right, you thought a little dejectedly. This time, you strapped your skates on to meet Daisuke right on schedule.

 

_It’s okay to bump into each other_

_It’s okay to cry_

_Because for sure, there is an answer_

               

A month later, Daisuke approached you as you were tying up your skates, a small grin on his face. “Congratulations, you’ve been short listed for the Olympic team.”

Before you could even reply, Yuzuru’s smiling face surfaced in your mind. _God, he’s going to be so happy—we’re finally going to the Olympics together!_  You were about to hug Daisuke when he held up a hand, his smile still intact.

“Before you celebrate, I need to repeat what I told you on our first session.” He motioned for you to glide along the rink with him as he spoke.

_I’m sure you love something about the rink_ , he began carefully, his words punctuated by the blades of his skates cutting into the ice. _You love it enough to train your entire life, to devote your days to perfecting the technical aspects of your skating. Which you have._

_But you don’t love skating, and I can see in your eyes that you won’t, ever._ No one was at the rink, and yet as he let those words go you wanted to clamp your hand over his mouth,  as if what he said was a secret you didn’t want revealed.

You had rounded the entire rink when he looked you straight in the eye, and your knees buckled—from the steely glint of his gaze or the truth of his words, you weren’t sure.

“And that’s why even if you qualify, you can be sure you won’t win a medal at Sochi. I don’t think you even want to.”

You felt your legs weaken at his words. For a reason you couldn’t identify, your knees slammed onto the ice the moment you attempted to glide forward, and the pain on your kneecaps was strangely familiar.

The rink was deserted save for you and Daisuke. In the distance—across the dimensions of time (twelve years) and unrequited love, maybe?—you thought you heard a boy’s cry of _tag!_

You knew now that it was a game you would never win, and a game that had never been yours to play.

_Don’t give up_

_No matter how painful the future will be_

_Your life will shine brightly_

“Yuzu.” You pressed your ear against his bedroom door, hoping for a sign of life that never came—still, you plowed on. “Yuzu, I know you’re in there.”

You sighed. “Yuzu. I- I got shortlisted for the Olympic team.” At lightning speed, a shuffling sound emanated from within the room, and within moments Yuzu had opened the door, eyes wide.

There it was again, flickers of the smile that you’d loved all your life, the one where every one of his tiny features lit up into fireworks. You had always done everything you could to ignite that smile: but you couldn’t do that. Not anymore.

The edge of a skate’s heel was razor sharp metal, and it was this blade that you felt wrenching across your heart as you spoke your next words.

“But I’m not going through with the application. Yuzu, I- I don’t want to skate at Sochi.”

You tried to ignore the look of hurt crossing his face. “Is it because I’m leaving?”

_Maybe it had been, at first. But-_ “No, it’s not. I don’t want to skate anymore, at all.”

“You- you don’t love skating anymore?”

You wanted to cry all of a sudden- did the last twelve years of your life really just come down to this? But your voice only came out bitter, like you had gotten a bronze in a skating competition you’d trained all your life for. “I never liked skating, Yuzu.”

You paused- to allow the words to sink in, and also to swallow back an onslaught of tears. “I only loved that- that I was skating with you.”

Not wanting to see his expression, you kept your eyes trained onto the floor. “Remember when you asked me, how I was so relaxed,  how I skated like everything was just a rehearsal? I think I know now. I never cared about the medals, because all I wanted to do was stand on the same podium as you, and it was never about me. You know, I never popped a jump in competition, or fell, not even once?”

You thought you saw a single teardrop fall to the floor as you spoke, but you couldn’t be sure, because your own eyesight was beginning to blur with every word. “So I’m sorry for being angry about Canada. I’m not anymore. You’ve always been willing to fall for your skating, and you’ve done it so many times… Now it’s me who has to look for that something that makes me want to trip and fall, whatever it is. Because for me that something has always been a _someone_ , and… I- need to stop falling for you like this.”

Yuzuru said nothing. Maybe he didn’t know what to say. He only wrapped you in a tight embrace, and you knew, in that moment, that it was all he could ever give you.

_One flower stands in the wind_

_We can become flowers, too_

On the day you saw Yuzu off at the airport, you found yourself fussing over everything—rummaging through his bag to check if he had brought his passport, putting all his papers into specific pockets to make sure he wouldn’t lose them. Yuzu only laughed at your actions. In the weeks leading up to his departure, neither of you had said anything about what you had said the day you told him you weren’t going to try for the Olympic team. After all, some words were best left frozen inside a rink.

 “Train well, alright?” When Yuzu didn’t reply—he was too busy staring into space, biting his lip nervously— you pulled out a pack of band aids and began to peel them open, one by one.

“To get you through the first session,” was your only reply to his inquiring stare, and you both laughed. He was going to trip, you knew, lots of times. And he was going to love it anyway.

You made a little small talk, then, about the kinds of coaches Yuzu would be having, and how excited he was to meet Javier Fernandez. Thirty minutes later, he cleared his throat.

“I think it’s time to board now.” You nodded, and this time, you knew the tears wouldn’t fall.

“Take care.” He nodded back, and then dragged his luggage into the boarding area, where the press was waiting with their cameras and endless questions. You had always hated moments like these, losing Yuzuru to the blinding flash of the world’s attention: but now you felt as if it was taking him away from you, and no matter how painful it was, that it would make way for better things.

You were just about to turn away when you heard his voice, in the distance, calling out your name.

“Hana.” Even several meters away, his smile was palpable. “I’ll miss you. And good luck.”

 

_One flower blooms in the wind_

_We can become flowers, too._

 


End file.
